


Unmasked

by PsychGirl (snycock)



Series: Incognito [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Kiss, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snycock/pseuds/PsychGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What will Blair do when he finds out Jim's secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unmasked

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sentinel Thursday challenge #291 - never explain  
> This is a sequel to Incognito, which you should probably read first. I've been wanting to fix that story for a long time...

“The light in me bows to the light in you.”

“Namaste,” Blair murmured, closing his eyes and inclining his upper body forward in a bow, his palms pressed together in front of his chest. He held the pose for a moment and then straightened up, eyes still closed, breathing deeply, enjoying the blissful, loose feeling he always got in body and mind after a good yoga session.

“Nice job with that headstand today, Blair,” his teacher said.

He opened his eyes and smiled. “Thanks,” he replied, the warm glow of accomplishment spreading through him. He’d been trying for weeks to do a headstand by himself; he could hardly wait to tell Jim about it.

As always nowadays, the thought of his Sentinel and one-time partner brought a slight twinge to his heart, and his smile faded. He unfolded his legs from the lotus and rose, reaching for his clothes and shoes. But he was distracted by the girl who was staring out of the window, a look of fear on her face.

“Katie?” he asked. She usually sat behind him in class; they both liked being next to the window. “What’s the matter?”

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “Did... did you see that curtain move?” she asked, her voice hoarse, pointing at the building across the street.

The window was nondescript, one of several in the facade. The sash was cracked open; inside, a pair of beige panels with a scant inch gap between them hung across it. He watched it for a moment, but nothing happened. “I don’t see anything,” he told her.

“I... I just thought... it felt like maybe someone was... was watching us,” she stammered, her eyes now fixed back across the street.

He frowned and glanced at her. “It’s an office building; I doubt anyone’s in there on a weekend.” Her expression was furtive, and he quickly added that together with a few comments he’d overheard, and reached a disturbingly familiar conclusion. “Katie,” he said softly, “is someone threatening you?”

She flushed, bright red, and her eyes dropped to the floor. “My ex, Pete,” she whispered. “I broke up with him two weeks ago; he didn’t take it well. He’s been calling me... I keep thinking I see his car parked near mine when I’m shopping....”

Anger and worry warred in Blair’s heart, and he chose the latter. “Do you need some help?” he asked, touching her elbow lightly.

“No, I... I know. I’m... I’ve got a counselor, and everything.” Her gaze met his and she smiled gratefully. “I’m probably just imagining it.”

He looked back at the window and felt a chill down his spine when he saw that it was now closed. “Maybe not,” he said. “You should trust your instincts.” He spied Jim crossing the street, coming to meet him, and he turned back to Katie. “My roommate, he’s a cop; you want me to talk to him?”

“No! Oh, please, no!” Her eyes grew huge. “I... I don’t want to get Pete in any trouble or anything. Please, promise me you won’t say anything to your roommate!”

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, running his hand up and down her arm gently. “I won’t say anything. But you gotta promise me something. Promise me you’ll tell me if things get worse.”

“I promise,” she said solemnly.

Blair patted her on her shoulder and told her to have a good week, then gathered up his mat and pulled on his shoes, privately vowing to pay more attention to that window during their next class.

Stomach growling, he clattered down the stairs and burst out of the door. It was a gorgeous day; the sun was shining, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and Jim was leaning against the wall, a lazy smile on his face. “Hey, man,” he greeted Jim cheerfully, “how about the River Cafe today? I’ve got a hankering for pancakes.”

“Sounds good, Chief,” Jim replied, pushing himself off the wall.

“You should have seen it, man - I did a headstand today on my own, first time!” he told Jim proudly as they walked down the street towards the cafe.

Jim whistled appreciatively. “Nice job, Sandburg.”

Despite Jim’s praise, Blair felt faintly disappointed. He’d thought news of this magnitude would be occasion for a high-five or something, maybe a friendly squeeze of the shoulder or a pat on the back, but Jim just ambled along next to him, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Which just underlined the truth Blair had realized some time ago.

Jim hadn’t touched him since he’d turned down the badge.

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he slid into the booth, taking the menu the waitress handed him and opening it, barely paying attention to what she was saying about the daily specials.

He’d known he couldn’t accept it, as much as he’d enjoyed following Jim around. Playing cop was one thing, really being a cop was another. He didn’t have the mettle for that. He’d apologized, to both Jim and Simon, and tried to explain it to Jim, several times, until Jim insisted that it was okay, that he understood, that he wasn’t mad at Blair or anything.

But there had been distance between them ever since.

“Hey, you okay?” Jim’s voice broke into his reverie. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he replied, scrambling for an excuse. “Yoga high’s fading, I guess.” He forced his mouth into a grin. “And I’m really hungry.”

Just then the waitress came by, looking at Jim expectantly. “I’ll have three eggs, scrambled, with whole wheat toast and a side of bacon. Oh, and coffee,” Jim said.

Her gaze turned to Blair. “I’ll have the same,” he said, handing her the menu. “Orange juice instead of coffee.”

Jim frowned at him. “I thought you wanted pancakes?”

“Changed my mind,” he replied, shrugging. He didn’t want to admit to Jim that he hadn’t even looked at the menu. “So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked.

As he’d expected, Jim launched into a description of the errands and chores he had mapped out for them. Blair tried to keep focused, but he couldn’t stop his brain from going back to his earlier thoughts. It was like poking a loose tooth.

The problem was that he had no reason to feel bad. Things between him and Jim were fine. They were friends, and roommates. Things had changed, sure – Jim had better control of his senses, now; he didn’t need Blair around to help him with that. And, without a diss, there was no need for Blair to collect data anymore. They didn’t see each other as much, that was true, because he had no reason to come to Major Crimes, and Jim really had no reason to come by the health food store where Blair worked as a cashier and stocker. And Jim had been working pretty late, recently, and had gotten stuck with a series of stakeouts that kept him away from home a lot.

But they made up for it on the weekends, where they’d established a nice routine. Saturdays Blair went to yoga while Jim stayed home and read the paper, then they met up, had breakfast, and ran errands. Sundays they went and saw a movie, or a museum exhibit, unless Jim had to go into work, which was happening more and more frequently. But it was okay. They were okay, which was more than he had thought possible in the days leading up to the press conference.

The food arrived, and Blair picked desultorily at his eggs. _You wanted it to be something more than this_ , a traitorous part of his heart murmured. _Yeah, well_ , he chided himself sternly, _you don’t always get what you want_.

***

The following week Blair got to yoga a little early, to make sure he got his usual spot, which had a good view of the window. Nothing looked out of the ordinary before class, but once they had finished the sun salutes, he glanced over to see if anything was going on.

The window had been opened, just a crack. And he was sure he’d seen one of the curtains move just now.

Anger rose abruptly inside him, and he grabbed his shoes, mouthed _bathroom_ to the instructor, and slipped quietly out into the hallway. He used the back exit, and made a wide sweep around the building, hoping that whoever was in the room wouldn’t see him.

He slipped inside the building, and climbed the stairs stealthily to the correct floor. Pausing for a moment, he oriented himself to the street outside, then located the office that the window had to be part of.

Moving forward in a crouch, he felt a moment’s dismay that he’d left his cell phone in the yoga studio. Then he steeled himself. Most abusive assholes like this guy Pete were chickenshit, and would back down from any serious threat. Blair just wanted to extract a promise from him that he’d leave Katie alone, and he figured that threatening to go to the police would do just that. If things got hairy, well, then, he was schooled in the fine art of running and dodging. No need to bring Jim into it.

Straightening, he placed his hand on the knob, then turned it and flung the door wide.

The man sitting in the chair in front of the window was definitely not Pete. Blair knew this because the man was Jim. And the way he was sprawled in the chair – legs spread wide, head back, right forearm resting on his thigh – left no doubt as to what he’d been doing.

“Jim?” he yelped, his voice cracking.

The chair fell with a crash as Jim surged to his feet and spun around, hastily tucking himself back into his pants, a look of utter shock and horror on his face.

The whole thing might have been amusing, Blair thought, if it hadn’t felt so surreal. He tried to think of something to say, but his mind, for once, was completely blank.

Jim seemed to have the same problem. His mouth worked for a moment, and then his expression went completely flat and grim. He stalked past Blair and out of the room without a word.

“What. The. Fuck?” Blair said, to the empty, still air.

***

Jim knew he was a coward at heart. That was why he was parking his truck outside the loft hours after the sun had gone down.

He wasn’t even sure exactly where he’d spent the day. He knew he’d been in the woods at some point. He could remember sitting next to a cheerfully babbling stream, trying very hard to not think about how much he’d completely screwed things up.

He’d wanted to give Blair plenty of time to pack his things and clear out. Not that he could blame him. He just didn’t want to be around while it happened.

But as he got out of the truck, he could tell that the lights were on in the loft. And if he concentrated, he could hear Blair’s heartbeat, firm and steady.

His heart sank. He’d hoped he could escape, but it seemed that they were going to have to have a “conversation” about today. Blair would be kind, and earnest, and understanding, and would say, “It’s not your fault, it’s me”. He would try to say that nothing was different, that it was no big deal and they would stay friends, but Jim would look in his eyes and would know that he was lying. It was the way these conversations always went.

There was nothing he could do, however, but forge ahead. _Buck up, soldier_ , he told himself firmly, _and take your punishment like a man_.

Slowly he climbed the steps to the third floor, slid his key in the lock, and let himself in.

The loft was spotless. Every surface gleamed, and the floor shone. The dishes were done. The air had a faint scent of pine trees. The furniture was straightened and even the throw pillows were in place. The lights of Cascade twinkled brightly through clear, streakless windows.

“Oh, hey,” Blair said, from the kitchen, “I just finished putting dinner away. You want me to make you something to eat?”

“No... no, thanks, I’m not hungry,” Jim said absently. “The place looks... clean.”

Blair grinned. “Yeah, I... I had a little time on my hands this afternoon.” He rocked back on his heels, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “You want a beer?”

“Sure,” Jim replied, automatically.

Blair uncapped the bottle and brought it over and Jim took it, being careful not to brush his fingers against Blair’s as he did. It tasted good; he hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d gotten, being out in the woods all day.

“Come on, let’s go sit down,” Blair said, motioning towards the couch.

Jim sighed. This was it.

He lowered himself on to the couch, Blair perched on the coffee table facing him. “So, how long have you....”

“Been following you to yoga?” Jim asked. No reason to be crude about it.

“Uh... yeah.”

Jim took a deep breath, twisting the beer bottle between his hands. “Look, I’m... I’m really sorry about that. You weren’t supposed to find out. Not... not that that makes it okay, or anything. And I can’t really explain....” He trailed off, noticing that there were still a lot of Blair’s belongings in the living room. “If you need help packing your stuff or moving anything, just let me know.”

Blair’s brows drew together. “Why would I move my stuff?”

“You’re not leaving?”

“No. Why would I leave?”

“Well, because... well, I... the thing, today....” He was floundering. This was an unexpected twist and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Blair gave him a slightly sheepish grin, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, well, that... it’s... it’s kind of okay with me, actually.”

At that, Jim was up and pacing around the living room, anxiety a tight coil in his belly. He took a swig of beer and noticed that the bottle was nearly empty. “This... this isn’t a good idea,” he told Blair, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

“What? Why not?” Blair looked puzzled.

Jim just looked at him mutely, the beer making his head feel muzzy and his tongue feel thick. Why did he have to explain this? Couldn’t Blair see all the reasons why it wouldn’t work?

“Come here,” Blair said patiently, taking Jim’s elbow and leading him back to the couch. He pushed lightly on Jim’s shoulder and Jim sat. Blair plunked himself down on the coffee table again. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

Jim stared at him. He wanted to answer “yes”, wanted it with every fiber of his being, but how could he? How could he say that, after what he’d done to Blair?

Blair sighed. “Okay, let’s try another tack. Do you love me?”

“Yes.” That, at least, was an easy answer.

Blair’s smile was so bright, it hurt Jim’s heart. “Well, I love you, too. And I trust you.”

“How?” The question burst forth, anguished. “How can you? After what I did – I threw you out, I accused you, I turned my back on you....”

Blair’s hands framed his face, warm and square and strong. Jim could feel the calluses he’d developed from stocking, rough against his skin. “Because I love you,” Blair replied calmly.

Jim shut his eyes and clenched his jaw against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. “I’ll just fuck up,” he ground out. “I’ll just do it again someday, when I’m scared.” _Like now_. He wrapped his hands around Blair’s wrists, unsure whether he wanted to push him away or pull him close.

“I know,” Blair said, leaning forward until his forehead rested against Jim’s. “It’s okay. We’ll deal with it.”

And Jim realized, in a sudden burst of clarity, that Blair saw him, really saw him for who he was, all his faults and weaknesses, along with his strengths and virtues; saw him as more than just the soldier, the detective, the pit bull, even more than just the Sentinel. They’d been through so much together, and Blair had seen the worst of him, and loved him anyway.

He felt suddenly, surprisingly light, as if he’d dropped a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying. He almost gasped with the shock of it, and then Blair’s mouth was on his, and he tasted so good that Jim didn’t really want to think about anything else for a while.

When he pulled back, Blair was straddling his lap, his fingers busy undoing the buttons of Jim’s shirt. Jim was slightly surprised to find that his own hands were burrowed under Blair’s shirts, splayed against Blair’s warm, muscular back.

“So, this following-me thing....” Blair said, sliding Jim’s shirt off his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore,” he promised.

“Are you kidding me?” Blair said, his face alive with delight, “I want you to. I demand that you do it. Do you have any idea how much it’s going to turn me on, knowing you’re over there, watching me? I’m not sure we’ll make it to breakfast. I’m not sure I’ll make it through an entire yoga class, actually, knowing that.”

Jim laughed, the sound loose and free in his chest. This was going to be one hell of a wild ride.

 


End file.
